


The Queens of Nuka World

by VaultGirl2077



Series: Orenda [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Conspiracy, Detectives, Drama, Drama & Romance, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Gratuitous Smut, Lies, M/M, Mind Games, Multiple Partners, Nuka World, Porn With Plot, Post-Canon, Romance, Rough Sex, Sex, Shameless Smut, Spies & Secret Agents, The Railroad, Time Skips, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-09-23 20:40:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17087366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VaultGirl2077/pseuds/VaultGirl2077
Summary: Five years after the Institute were eliminated by the Brotherhood of Steel and the Railroad are still a functional organisation thanks to the Sole Survivor. The same woman who betrayed them to work with their enemy was the same one who ensured their survival.Since then, Deacon has worked with a new partner, keeping her at arms length after he learned the hard way not to trust anyone like he trusted Lady Luck again.After news of a synth safe house being burned to the ground reaches HQ, Jack and Deacon are sent to Nuka World as their only lead.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was born from the countless hours of ideas and talking between myself and a dear friend who I no longer have contact with. Jacklyn King and other NPC's are her characters and this would never exist or have come to life without her.

 

The Third Rail was humming with activity, the room growing louder as the evening grew later, everything residing in the depths laced with a layer of smoke and debauchery.

A standard evening.

Every so often, the noise of people chattering would be hushed into silence as a long-legged woman strolled onstage. With a velvet purr, she would greet her audience, grasping the microphone with delicate fingers as the song began.

_“I see you lookin' 'round the corner, come on inside and pull up a chair…”_

As the room echoed with Magnolia’s enchanting voice, a heavily tattooed woman made her way to the secluded couch near the back. She lit up a cigarette, the jagged scar that cracked down her left eye illuminated hauntingly in the ember’s glow.

_“No need to feel like a stranger, cause we're all a little strange in here…”_

She sat down, kicking her feet onto an end table as she took a long drag of her cigarette. The smoke lazily trailed from her black lips as she kept her one good eye glued to the singer. Magnolia really was the flower of the Third Rail; just a look from the singer seemed to send men’s hearts racing. However, she wasn’t here to ogle the local beauties. Tonight was purely business. Jack tore her gaze from the singer, and began watching the other patrons carefully--waiting for her partner to show.

The most popular club in Goodneighbor seemed to be a wave of reassurance and tranquillity that engulfed all those who chose to enter. A sanctuary for the lost and depraved. All a little strange here indeed.

   --------------------------

Upstairs, Ham gave his usual nod of acknowledgement to the ashen haired drifter in shades who had just walked in. It was always such a flaw in the way he conducted himself. Aiming to be unrecognizable and invisible yet never losing those glasses. He knew this, not that it really mattered. No matter what he tried, he could never truly blend into the shadows. His aura forbid it. A magnetic force commanding you to look at him. That's how Jack had first noticed him, or so she claimed.

Magnolia was thanking the crowd as the mature Queen stepped off stage.

_Wonderful as always Mags._

The agent smiled, momentarily fixated on the mature Queen. An involuntary wink behind the glasses and he brought himself back to reality. One look around the club and he spotted her, practically drooling over the singer who was now taking her seat at the bar. Of course she hadn't noticed him yet. Not until he was right behind her.

Her body language was her biggest downfall, always giving her away. As he approached she’d been leaning forward slightly, feeling the presence of someone close but not consciously. Reacting instead of thinking and nearly reaching for her piece until she recognized his voice.

“Put that thing away before someone sees it and thinks it’s for them.” Deacon whispered a little too close to her ear as he sat down, causing her to jump like a startled alley cat. "That being said, you need to keep your eyes trained on something other than Mags. I could have been anyone. She isn’t going anywhere before sunrise, I promise. You don't need to keep such a close eye on her." He chuckled and took a sip of her drink. "Rookie mistake, Nightingale."

 _Nightingale._ That was the name they gave her when she became an official agent, though Jack had protested joining at all to begin with. She was just a smuggler, not synth rights activist, but somehow, even before she knew him like she did now, Deacon had managed to talk her into it.

After the Institute was destroyed, the Railroad was overwhelmed at the number of displaced synths to care for. It was Deacon that contacted Jack in Goodneighbor to assist in _“smuggling merchandise”_ out of the Commonwealth. She had an established route of contacts that stretched as far West as New Reno. As long as they were paid well enough, they didn’t care who or what they smuggled through. Sure, the safe passage of synths could be pricey; but her dealings smuggling chems was more than profitable enough to make ends meet.

“You’re lucky that’s my first drink,” Jack retorted, cheeks flushing slightly at his jab regarding Mags. “Sneaking up on someone like that is a good way to get yourself shot.”

“Not even you’re foolish enough to start shooting up in here, you know Hancock would have your ass if Charlie or Ham didn’t fry it first.”  He brazenly took the bottle out of her hand again as she was about to take another swig. “What? Don’t look at me like that. I’ll pay you back, I promise”

Jack raised her brow with a frown that said “Bullshit” but didn’t protest.

He owed her more cigarettes than she'd had hot dinners so she knew his word didn’t mean much. But it didn’t matter between them. As much as it pained him to admit, the two got on well. Great even sometimes.

They were friends. Partners.

_Trusted._

It was an odd pairing to look at them to say the least, but looks had a reputation for being deceiving. They thought the same on missions and trusted each others instincts. No one was more shocked than Des when they both came back from their first mission laughing like old pals.

\--------------------------

The last notes of the siren’s song seemed to hang in the air even as she departed the stage. Magnolia was looking over at them now, leaning on the bar with her backside sticking out provocatively, not even looking at the man who had bought her the drink she was twirling with her straw.

Deacon clicked his fingers in front of Jack’s eyes to bring her back to reality.

“So do we have business here or did you ask me to come here just to admire the scenary?”

“Hey what can I say? It’s one hell of a view.” Jack laughed, shrugging in defeat but having her attention brought back to the reality at hand. She ran a hand through her hair, brushing the dark strands out of her face-- expression darkening.

“We’re gonna need another bottle,” she muttered, keeping the cigarette lazily hanging from  her mouth as she reached into her vest. “Valkyrie has gone dark,” she began, her tone suddenly as tense as it was hushed.

Without hesitation, she pulled out a charred holotape from her vest then took the bottle from his grasp, handing him the burnt square of plastic in exchange. Jacklyn took a swig to numb her guilt, then extinguished her cigarette on the ashtray.

“Tom might be able to get more off of it than I could,” she stated, fighting the stressful urge to chainsmoke. “From what I heard, the place was burned to the ground. No bodies. Just burned up shit and that holotape.”

Deacon examined it closely, even pulling his signature black shades down to the end of his nose so nothing, not even the slightly darkened plastic between his gaze and the tape were obscured.

“Gone dark, huh? Well no bodies mean no confirmations. I’m not writing her memorial when she may just be hiding.” He said a little too defensively. Jack didn’t argue, she understood. The possibility was slim at best, but it was still that, a possibility.

“If I was going to murder someone, especially by setting them on fire…Why not leave the corpses, Nightingale? I’d have to wait for the fire to stop so I could retrieve the body, wait for it to cool down and for what? What is anyone gonna get off a fried corpse? Even if they suspected her of being a synth and wanted to decode her. They weren’t going to get far with crispy circuit boards. It doesn’t make sense.” He tapped his thumb on his lip thoughtfully and pocketed the holotape.

Jack could almost see the gears working in that brain of his. In one swift movement he took the cigarette out of Jack’s hand this time as it was about to make contact with her lips. All Deacon could muster was a cheeky grin. A bit of humor to take the edge off. Jack returned the smirk in appreciation but remained silent for a moment, thinking through her next words carefully.

No bodies. Missing synths. AWOL agent. It all pointed to a suspicion that made her insides boil and she knew Deacon was getting at the same thing. Valkyrie was one of the Railroad’s best at undercover, second only to Deacon. Jack was always impressed by her and she was smart too.

_Too smart to get caught in a damn fire._

“According to some of my men,” she muttered, pulling out another cigarette, purposely leaning away from Deacon’s grasp this time, “Valkyrie had been acting strange. Seemed to be preoccupied with something. Distracted.” She lit the end of her cigarette, subconsciously exhaling the smoke away from her friend.

Jack hated the idea of betrayal, though in her business she was rather used to it. Smugglers could be bought, but Railroad agents seemed more devoted; too driven by their conscience to unshackle. But everyone had a price. Jack refused to give anyone the benefit of the doubt considering the unpredictable variables.

“You may be right..." He admitted cautiously, not giving away his feelings on the matter with so much as a sigh.  It wouldn't be the first time they'd been betrayed without him expecting it, if the fragmented and hushed tales she’d heard from the agents n HQ were to be believed. It was much more plausible than Valkyrie going up in flames.

"Maybe we can get a confirmation off this tape. Whatever happened, they didn't cover their tracks well." She took another swig from the bottle, debating whether or not to finish it off. The more shit got complicated, the more she felt like numbing herself. Fortunately, she was in Goodneighbor where nearly everyone self-medicated to keep keep their worries at bay. “With that missing safehouse, there’s a lost link in my chain of contacts. You’re better at breaking shit news to Des. She’d have a fit if I accused one of her agents of betrayal.”

“You just gotta know how to handle Des, she’s a kitten really.” Deacon pulled out his own pack of cigarettes, giving Jack a shrug as she shot outraged daggers at him with her eyes.

_He’d had his own the entire time…_

“An idealistic kitten who gets caught up in her own head,” Jack said bitterly, turning her gaze to Magnolia as her song began once more. It wasn’t that she hated Des, the Railroad leader’s attempts to look all inspiring made her eyes roll often an usual. Besides, Des hated how the Nightingale wouldn’t stop calling her _“Miss Conductor.”_

Jazz flooded the room as Magnolia had the crowd entranced again. Jack couldn’t help but question if her stare was really directed towards their table or  if she simply hoping that was the case. Deacon rolled his eyes and signalled to Charlie that he wanted another round.

“I take it we’re going back to HQ in the morning then? You don’t seem able to tear yourself away.”

His last comment caught her attention; she turned from the singer and cleared her throat awkwardly.

“What? Jealous you can’t have my full attention?” she jeered, lightening up as the whiskey kicked in. The news of Valkyrie’s disappearance still nagged at her mind, considering her gut was telling her the situation was only going to get worse.

_It always got worse..._

]“You know I’m sensitive…” He pouted - a complete over exaggeration as always for extra effect.

Deacon was usually the reason she ended up in a state by the end of the night. She could never understand how the alcohol never seemed to even give the illusion that it was having some effect on him. Or if it did he was an expert at hiding it, which wouldn’t have surprised her. Still she hated being the “lightweight" as he always called her.

“Why not just ask her back to the Rexford? You don’t seem like the shy type.”

“I’m not,” she concluded simply, shooting him a look. “I just know I’m not charismatic enough to catch her attention.” She shrugged, exhaling the cloud of smoke through her nostrils with a smug smile. “Girl like that’s too good for me anyhow.”

Almost as if on cue, Magnolia strolled over to the two--the dame always did have good timing.

“My, my--what do we have here? Hope I’m not missing out on all the fun,” the songbird purred, her dark blue eyes flashing to Deacon under thick lashes.

"Hey there, gorgeous. Great set tonight. Why don't you pull up a chair if you're finished? " He responded with a nod at the spare chair. "Not very subtle Mags, didn't have to go writing a song about lil old me"

Magnolia laughed as she delicately placed herself down on the seat, crossing her legs a little too slowly. A predator luring the kill. Deacon kicked Jack under the table gently. A hint to get moving and fetch a drink for the lady so she made a good impression.

“What’s your poison tonight, Magnolia?” Jack asked, shooting Deacon an embarrassed look before standing up. She awkwardly scratched the back of her head, flushed cheeks were always a strange combination with facial tattoos.

Magnolia turned her gaze to the woman, looking her up and down before resting her cheek on her hand.

“Oh, I suppose I'm done for the night, so I can drink up. Vodka for me, sweetheart.” Jack nodded and headed to the bar, unaware of Magnolia’s gaze trailing after her.

 --------------------------

“My, she’s a tall thing,” Magnolia purred, turning her attention back to Deacon. “You two around no doubt means trouble, not that I mind. Trouble makes for a great song.”

Deacon leaned in with a side smile. "We all know how you like your trouble Mags. The girl's gifted. More than meets the eye. Might be worth getting to know her more." Behind those shades his eyes danced to the nervous smuggler at the bar, it was clear she was nervous. Quite a sight to behold. First blushing and now fumbling with bottles like a Diamond City Stands girl. It was only her appearance that told anyone otherwise. It was strange seeing her like this. He knew better than anyone that people wore their different personas for the world. But this was so out of character for Jack and Deacon was loving every minute.

\--------------------------

At the bar, Jack felt a soft tap on her shoulder. She turned slightly to face the man sitting next to her on a stool.

“Jackal, my girl, it’s been a spell,” he stated, flicking the ashes of his cigar onto the floor.

She flinched at the sound of her old nickname; she hadn’t been called Jackal in nearly six years.

“Wolfgang,” she replied, her expression stone though her eyes went wide at the sight. “I’ll be damned. Thought you were dead.” Her tone was cold. She nodded in thanks when Charlie sat down her order. She didn’t pick up her drinks, instead leaned on the bar facing the man with her arms crossed.

“Had a bit of a situation,” he replied coolly, “But I’m back in the game.”

The tall woman leaned in closer with an intimidating glare. “Hope you realize you still owe me a fuckton of caps.”

“That’s why I got your attention,” he replied, obviously unperturbed at her attitude. “Still using? Ah, of course you are. Track marks, Jack, dead give away." His jab did nothing but make her grin at the challenge. A wild look flashed in her eyes, the type of look she got when she was itching for a fight.

“Cool it. Didn’t mean it as an insult. Here.” He reached into his trench coat pocket, making Jack reach for the piece strapped on her hip. “Easy,” he stated coolly, sitting a satchel on the counter. “Consider it sign of good faith.”

Jack raised a brow, but shoved the small bag into her vest without a word, grabbing the drinks before heading back .

“We’ll be in touch,” Wolfgang muttered as she walked off.

\--------------------------

The tattooed smuggler finally returned and sat back on the couch, not making eye contact with the two as she handed Magnolia her drink. She then sat a bottle of whiskey on the coffee table, pushing a glass toward Deacon.  

“Well, thank you, sweetheart,” Magnolia hummed, sipping from her glass.

Even though his eyes were hidden she knew he was looking at her, silently and telepathically drilling the question into her mind. “Who was that man?”. But no, Magnolia was here and no one got to hear their business except them. That was the rule.

“...Nah Mags, You’re crazy. Why would a guy like me be a security guard for Diamond City? I must have a Doppelganger.” He laughed, smacking his lips “Hey Jack, Another round? I’ll help you carry them. Looked like you were struggling last time. Alcohol gone to your head again?” She scowled at him but didn’t need any further hint as to why he wanted to get her alone.

“Usually when girls take strange packages off guys in clubs it don’t end well. At first I thought he was a client…but well…you had that look on your face when you were talking and I knew that guy wasn’t just business.” He said under his breath while Charlie went to fix their drinks.

Jack bit her lip, shifting her weight uncomfortably as she leaned on the bar. She knew Deacon had caught the exchange; the smuggler just didn’t expect him to bring it up so suddenly.

“It was just business,” she replied plainly, feeling his gaze reading her every move. The Nightingale was a damn good liar when she wanted to be, a skilled manipulator, but Deacon was on a whole other level. “He owed me, he paid me back. Simple,” Jack added when it became apparent her first comment wasn’t going to suffice.

Her eye darted around the room, looking for any signs of someone too interested in their conversation. The smuggler’s gut was telling her there were eyes on her back, but she tried to keep the worries in the back of her mind. When it came to chem use, one grows unsure what is paranoia or instinct.

“But we should get out of here soon,” she suggested,  lighting up a cigarette to help with the anxiety.

“Another night you’re gonna let Mags go home alone huh? I’d say this is time number nine, but who’s counting?” He took the cigarette again and she cursed him under her breath. She would prevent it one day. _One fucking day._ “Alright, kiddo. Let’s head out after this round. Nothing good ever happens after 2am in Goodneighbor anyway.”

She chuckled slightly, shrugging at the comment about Magnolia. Jack couldn’t help her infatuation with the woman, but she wasn’t keen on the idea of getting her heartstrings twisted around the songbird’s little finger. Years ago she let that happen with another Railroad heavy; Jacklyn still cursed herself for getting too close to Glory. Her death left the smuggler more numb than she had expected, or maybe that was just the Med-X.

Magnolia didn’t seem too keen on letting them go but maybe that was more to do with the fact that the patrons were growing steadily more intoxicated. Regardless, Deacon kept his word and made their excuses to leave.

“You can head back to HQ if you want,” Jack said, beginning the trek upstairs after paying for the tab. “I’m not as stealthy as you. I’d better wait until morning before heading there. If I still gotta go, that is…” Her voice trailed off hopefully, already knowing his response.

"I got some business to catch up on before I go. Make sure you don't do a disappearing act or it won't just be Des that kicks your ass when we find you." Deacon bid her farewell and departed out of the Gates to the Commonwealth. "Don't die." Those were always his parting words to her. Why did he even give a shit?

This time they stung some reason, the girl shrugged it off and headed to the Hotel Rexford to take a look at that satchel burning a hole in her pocket.

\--------------------------

The manager of the Rexford, Clair, gave her the usual room--top floor, back right. She shut the door behind her carefully, locking the door-knob and pushing a chair under it for good measure. Her hands trembled with excitement when she reached in her vest for the satchel. If her gut was right as to what Wolfgang gave her, there wasn’t a chance she was sleeping tonight.

Emptying the leather pouch onto the end-table, a smirk laced her lips when dozens of small white pills clattered softly onto the wooden surface. She sorted the majority into a pile, slipping the pills into an empty Mentats case that she tucked safely in her vest. Three small pills remained on the table, which she began crushing into a powder with the end of her knife. Gathering a pinch at the edge of her blade, Jacklyn snorted the powder greedily.

An exhilarated shout involuntarily erupted from her mouth as she stood up, violently kicking the chair she had been sitting on seconds before.

“Fuck!” she hissed, grasping her head as her consciousness distorted. The shadows elongated, details sharpened--her heart felt as though it was going to escape from her chest it was beating so ferociously. A knock at the door. Was it in her head? No, someone was there.

She drew her revolver, checking the cylinder before clicking back the hammer as she carefully made her way to the door. She pressed her body against the wall, debating whether or not to move the chair barricading the door.

 _Another knock_ \--this one more insistent.

“Who is it?” Jacklyn managed to growl, though her own voice sounded unfamiliar.

The door rattled and after a few moments she heard the lock click. Jack grinned to herself, proud at her sober self for thinking ahead and placing the chair.

 _A familiar groan._ Was it him? No...This was just the trip...he went home, or wherever home was for Deacon... _Didn’t he?_

"Hey Jack, Let me in already." A muffled, male voice but one she recognized.

Jack stumbled and just about managed to save herself on the grubby chest of drawers as she made her way to remove the chair..Upon opening the door there he was, different clothes right now…were they? And mmm…his hair was dark…He always did look so fucking handsome with dark hair…Hell, he looked handsome anyway even though you couldn’t see his eyes.

“How are you feeling, beautiful?” He drawled.

 _Beautiful?_ He’d never called her that before but she couldn’t help but chuckle as she took another drag of her cigarette. Another stumble but he was there to save her this time. For the countless time this evening he took the cigarette out of her mouth and took a deep drag.

Those damn glasses. What were his eyes like underneath anyway?

“I’m feeling great,” Jacklyn replied softly, a grin still plastered across her face. “Come on in, I thought you had left.” She grabbed him by his jacket, pulling him into the room and close to her with enough force to nearly send them tumbling.

Her visitor managed to catch the two from falling, chuckling slightly as he kicked the door closed behind him. He didn’t let go of her, instead daringly pulling her closer which Jacklyn didn’t resist.

“Feel like having a little fun tonight?” He purred as his hands slipped inside the fabric of her pants. Worn fingertips pushing and rubbing against her pubic bone only to aggravate. With a croaky gasp she gripped on to his hair. Warning sign number one, or at least that’s what it should have been. His ‘wig’ didn’t move. It was a strange, she noted the point despite her unbridled desperation when his fingers teased their way beneath the flimsy fabric of her underwear

“Shit you really want this don’t you? You’re wetter than a sewer feral right now.” She chuckled faintly, not really the most romantic thing you can say to a girl, but the Railroad’s best agent was never conventional.

“I’ll show you feral,” she growled, grasping the back of his head to pull him into crazed kiss. As his tongue met hers, he slipped his hand out of her panties and began fumbling at her belt. Just as he began tugging her jeans down her hips, Jacklyn sank her teeth into his lower lip making him jerk back in pain.

As he touched his lip, a bit of blood transferred onto his finger. “Damn,” he said with a half-smile, “There’s the Jackal I know.”

What did just call her? She didn’t have time for the thought to register before he pushed her down onto the bed. It didn’t matter now...so carelessly lost in the moment.

The bedsprings creaked beneath as he crawled on top of her, practically tearing off her clothes while locking the smuggler in another kiss.

He reached down and traced the hood of her clit with his fingertips. Jacklyn moaned, softly purring for her partner to keep going. Kissing her neck, he slipped his fingers easily inside her--making her hips buckle with desire.

This was rougher than she expected with someone like Deacon..colder..but in all honesty she didn't know what she expected of him. The definition of an enigma could have his face next to it in the dictionary. Did he always have that scar? Hell it didn't matter..He was slipping the tip inside, her back arched to meet his length and she couldn't help but giggle, she thought he'd be a bit bigger. Familiarity was an understatement right. Like she’d been here before.

As with all trips, sooner or later reality cuts through the fog and shines bright even if it were just for a moment. Wolfgang....No...Deacon again...just a hallucination. What was the Hallucination?

"I forgot how much of a good fuck you were when you were tamed Jackal." That name again...no…

At the sound of her old nickname, the smuggler seemed to snap back into reality. Between blinks she saw Deacon, but now there was no mistaking…

“Get the fuck off me!” She roared, kicking the man forcefully in the abdomen--sending him to the floor with a thud. She didn’t move from the bed, just held her head in her hands as the ache of guilt grew and her high faded.  

“The fuck’s your problem?” Wolfgang retorted, picking himself up off the floor painfully. He cursed under his breath, zipping up his pants with what shattered pride he had left.

Just looking at him made her stomach churn. Jacklyn leaned down and grabbed her piece off the ground, clicking back the hammer.

“If you don’t get the fuck out of here in five seconds I’ll start shooting,” she muttered bitterly.

“You always were a crazy bitch,” The man replied, scratching the back of his head.

“Four.”

He held up his hands in sarcastic defeat. “Fine.”

She flinched at the sound of the door slamming behind him. The thought of staying in Goodneighbor any longer made her queasy, not being able to get dressed and pack up what little essentials she had quick enough.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Holotape found at the safe house held the key to what happened to the synths and Valkyrie. Tom was the only one skilled enough to bring something so damaged back to life.
> 
> Jack struggles to come to terms with her feelings for her partner that she'd happily ignored until now.

 

It was a little after noon when she stumbled into HQ. Deacon was waiting for her a little away from the front entrance. A warm rush of blood hit her cheeks as she laid eyes on him. Dark hair today too, slightly swept. Images of him on top of her last night flooded her mind like a flip-book.

_Of course the real Deacon was none the wiser and she needed to remember that._

"Hey there my pistol packin’ mama. Was wondering when you were gonna turn up. Ready to give Des the bad news? 50 caps if she tuts." He chuckled and handed her a cigarette "I think I owe you at least one. You're looking rough Nightingale." Accusatory but not angry. Obvious it was the chems without even asking.

The smuggler felt as bad as she looked--the term “strung out” not quite doing it justice. Her dark circles and one glazed eye screamed junkie, but it wasn’t like Jack cared. He was right as usual, no point denying it.

“I don’t take attitude from talking molerats with shades,” she jested with a tired smile. It was a relief to finally be in the company of the actual Deacon. It was the kind of feeling you got after waking up from a nightmare to feel sweet reality come flooding back. Still, her mind couldn’t fight the encroaching memories of last night. Every time she looked at him her heartbeat quickened at the thought of his arms around her.

"Molerats haven't got much fashion sense. It's why I'm here showing them how it's done." He jested while tidying his clothes mockingly.

“Where is Miss Conductor anyway?” Jack asked curiously, making an effort to keep her gaze from the agent.  

"Inside and she's already pissed that Tom hacked into her private terminal again. Maybe I shouldn't have joked that she could be a double agent for the old Enclave remnants....Don't look at me like that! It made for a good story. Almost as good as Proust." Deacon grabbed her arm which instantly made her abdomen constrict as she looked down at his closed fingers.

 _This was ridiculous. Why the fuck was she feeling this way around her old friend?_  

_Those long fingers inside her, stroking her entrance, wrapped around her wrists as he fucked her..._

"Hey Jack, you sure you're alright?"

She started to search for his eyes behind those dark shades, but eventually tore her gaze away.

“Yeah,” she replied, more disheartened than she had originally intended. “Just tired is all.”

Before Deacon could reply, another woman approached the two. “Deacon,” she stated, clearly tired as she lit up a cigarette. She only gave Jack a brief look of acknowledgement, but otherwise coldly ignored her presence. “I hope you have good news for me, lord knows I could use it.”

“What’s the matter Des? Don’t I get a hug?” Deacon pouted as the mature agent met him with a stony glare.

“The opposite of good news actually,” Jack chimed in, ignoring her own worry on the matter and almost too chipper just to see the scowl form on Des’ face. “Valkyrie’s gone AWOL, her safe house burned to the ground. No bodies, just a holotape.” Jacklyn nodded toward Deacon, hoping he would take it from there before she added an insult to her report.

“What Nightingale is trying to say…We think we have a potential rat in the woodworks. A clever little rat at that... If its true.” He continued with a slight shake of his head at Jack.

“Are you saying what I think you are Deacon?” She narrowed her gaze with a deep drag of her cigarette and then bit her thumb nail anxiously “You think Valkyrie turned on us? _You_ think this?” She shot a quick side glance to Jack as if she’d somehow manipulated Deacon, of all people, to believe some bogus story.

“I think it Des. Hell It was the logical conclusion when I saw the scene. Jack just agreed it made sense.” He replied matter-of-factly.

“Damn it,” Desdemona cursed, flicking the ashes of her cigarette anxiously. “There has to be a reason she would have turned on us. She was excellent at undercover but she was loyal...”

Jack always was impressed at Deacon’s capability to play Des like a fiddle. She never pressed further when Deacon claimed he saw the remains of the safe house. He had a way of always telling her *just* the right thing, while the Nightingale was the polar opposite--often wording situations in the most bleak way possible.

“We don't know anything yet...there's this holotape...Where’s Tom?” Jack asked impatiently, crossing her arms as she leaned against the battered brick foundation. “He’s the one we should be talking to.” She couldn’t help but smirk at the sharp look she received from from the Railroad leader. “No offence,” she added with a shrug, not even bothering to look in her direction.

"Meow. Retract those claws...He's out back right Des?" Deacon interjected swiftly. Linking his arm with Jack and dragging her through to the main hall and away from Desdemona's scorn. That look could burn holes into the back of his skull it was so intense.

 

\--------------------------

 

"You gotta sass her like that? Why can't you be the sweet little kitty like you are with me?" He nudged her with a smirk and proceeded between the Stone pillars over to Tom's terminal.

“Sweet what-now?” She retorted, raising a brow with a small smirk still tracing her lips that she couldn't prevent when he teased her. The annoying heat radiating from her cheeks made her grit her teeth in annoyance--she was half-tempted to tattoo the rest of her damn face.  

“Deacon, my man! And is that Jack with you? Damn, it’s been ages!”

“Hey, Tom, how’ve you been?” Jackl replied, flashing a toothy grin at the sight of her friend. Though Des’ company proved staying in HQ too icy for her liking, she couldn’t help that she missed the company of the eccentric genius.

The man stopped a moment, leaning in closer to the agents in a hushed tone. “I’m onto something big,” Tinker Tom replied, using his gloved hands to accentuate the grandeur of his latest theory with wide eyes. “I’m talking about aliens.”

Jack was unsure he had stopped talking for dramatic effect, or because he had lost his train of thought. Eventually, he continued.

“Okay, okay. So. There’s this asylum right? Well, some _craaazy_ stuff went down there. Turns out there was this guy who had locked his dad up down there. Why?” His eyes were wide at this point, pausing again when his excitement forced his voice above a whisper. He leaned in closer again, glancing in the direction of Desdemona anxiously. “The dude could control shit with his mind! And get this, get this: the son used his dad’s blood--”

“Tom, we have something for you to look at,” Jack interrupted, knowing that would catch his attention and hopefully move the subject away from extraterrestrials.

"Woah now, Jack. This crazy alien family are sounding pretty interesting. Y'know, I've always wondered about that Asylum..." Deacon pondered as Toms gears started turning in excitement that he seemed interested.

Jack gave them both an icy glare which soon quietened the eccentric pair down to return their focus to her.

"Shit we just woke the deathclaw." Deacon teased with a wink and he put his arm around her waist to say sorry. It was an act he’d performed countless times before that she'd barely paid attention to..but now such a simple touch was maddening. If Wolfgang could get her that hot and bothered then what could the real thing do? Jack cursed to herself mentally as her heart thudded tightly in her chest the instant Deacon touched her.

"Okay, okay calm it Jackie-Giraffe. Hit me. Whatcha got for ol' Tom?" He asked rubbing his hands together.

"We, uh, found..." She began, losing her train of thought. She cleared her throat awkwardly, ignoring the questioning glances Tom and Deacon exchanged. Neither had seen the Nightingale behave so strangely; her typically cool, disinterested persona replaced by bumbling foolishness.

"Here, just take the damn thing," she finally muttered, practically tossing the valuable evidence at Tom.

"Whoa, there easy!" Tom exclaimed as he caught the holotape in his fumbling grasp. "What the hell happened to this thing? You throw it into a fireplace after torching it with an Incinerator? Ah, forget it. Time for Tom to work his magic. This will only take 15 minutes...well shit, hold up, nah, make that a solid 30."

Jack nodded without a word, subconsciously glancing in Deacon's direction with a slight smile. The second she did so she felt stupid, childish and her cheeks flushed once more.

Deacon adjusted his glasses and grinned at her "You taken too much daytripper today, Nightingale? You got a damn goofy smile on your face." He teased and lit up a cigarette, offering her the pack before turning to watch Tom get cracking. "He's gonna be a while. Shall we go make sure the ferals ain't found their way into the catacombs while we wait?"

Her sly smile spread into a grin, embarrassment dissipating as she accepted the cigarette pack.

"Daytripper?" she repeated, lighting up the end of her cigarette. "Nah, I'm just..." Her voice trailed off again as she took a long drag, her brows furrowed in thought. "Yeah, sure. You got me," she continued, holding up her hands in sarcastic defeat as they headed for the door.

\--------------------------

Wispy columns of smoke trailed from her nostrils, as the two made their way through the catacombs under the church. The familiar snarl of a feral ghoul could be heard upstairs in the church, though neither of the agents seemed alarmed.

"So, I have a question to ask, well more a favour," Jack began as she shoved .44 calibre bullets into her revolver's chamber.

Deacon reloaded his gun and removed the safety, ducking slightly into his combat stance. Prepared for a surprise from a feral. He stopped and turned to face his partner, his thick auburn eyebrows raised from behind the glasses "What's the problem Jack?"

She bit her lip, scratching the back of her head awkwardly. "I was just, well, we're friends...right?" she asked, her voice suddenly growing much softer than usual. "Because I need your help with--"

A throaty snarl interrupted the Nightingale before she could finish, causing her to sigh in annoyance. Revolver in hand, she slowly inched her way out from under the decrepit staircase that shielded the catacombs entrance. She brought a gloved finger to her lips, indicating with the barrel of her revolver the source of the snarls and clumsy footsteps.

Usually Railroad agents would take the back entrance out of HQ, the front doors North Church specifically for those first trekking the Freedom Trail. However, feral ghouls often wandered in too, sometimes even making their way into the catacombs. To keep the church safe for those seeking to assist the Railroad, "weeding" out the zombies was necessary.

It wasn't long before she spotted a shadowed figure crouching near the back pews. Jack clicked back the hammer of her revolver, ready to deliver a piece of lead into the back of the feral ghoul's head. Before she could fire, a horrible snarl erupted from her left--specifically in the direction of her blind-spot. Before she had a chance to turn to face the incoming hostile, the ghoul lunged, flailing an arm directly into into the side of her head.

"Fuck!" she yelled, tumbling to the ground as the taste of blood filled her mouth. Her pistol clattered to the ground, sliding underneath what used to be an alter.

The ghoul was on top of her now, snapping furiously as Jacklyn used her arm as a barrier. She gritted her now red stained teeth--the blood oozing from her nose seemingly enraging the ghoul further. Straining, she used one arm to push the ghoul and the other to reach for the knife strapped to her boot.

_Almost there, she almost had it if the fucking zombie would stop fucking biting at her!_

Jack could hear the sounds of Deacon's shotgun bouncing off the walls and fighting for dominance over the Feral's screams. But the damned thing was clawing at her throat with its irradiated fingers now. As the Geiger counter clicked away furiously, sound drifted away, until all she could hear was her own heartbeat....so fast...like the end of a drum roll just before the final bang as the show stopped.

"RAAAAAAARGH!" a final blood curdling scream as her vision bounced back. The feral's head smashed on the ground next to hers, the full weight of its bloated body pinning her to the ground.....she was conscious...it was dead!

"Jack next time you wanna make out with a ghoul, make sure you take some damn rad-x!" Deacon yelled over before squealing like a scared girl and blasting the last of the ferals with his shotgun.

With a groan, Jack shoved the corpse off her sore body. She tried wiping the blood off her face with her sleeve, but her nose continued to ooze defiantly. Cursing like a sailor, she tilted her head back and pinched her nostrils.

"Ugh...yeah, not my proudest moment," was all she managed to retort--her voice nasally and muffled. Her head was throbbing from the feral's smack, and not to mention her already strung-out state. The arm that served as the barrier luckily wasn't as bad as Jack expected; just bruises under a tattered sleeve.

When her nose finally stopped bleeding, she slowly stood up and made her way over to the altar to retrieve her revolver.

Holstering her pistol, she approached Deacon. Without hesitating, she kissed him on the cheek with a muttered thanks--too tired and strung out to care if she crossed a line.

She used a finger to wipe a bit of blood that had transferred onto his cheek, then turned to walk back into the catacombs.

Deacon felt his cheeks flush ever so slightly but brushed it off. It was peculiar, not unpleasant or uncomfortable. But odd. He'd never understand that damn kid. Slinging the smoking shotgun over his back he readjusted his wig and caught up with her "No Rad-away again huh? Go sit on those rocks while i check the pack." He tutted which made her chuckle under her breath.  In moments he had joined her and was holding her arm in place as he fed the needle through her translucent skin.

She didn't flinch as the needle pierced her skin--it was a familiar sting between the Med-X and tattoos. "You don't mind other people stabbing you either? Isn't there anything that bothers you, kid?"

"Warm beer and that damn Jingle Jangle song," she replied, a smirk dancing along her coal-coloured lips. She reached with her free arm into her vest pocket and pulled out a rust-tinted flask. She took a quick swig, grimacing slightly at the harsh taste, then poured the alcohol on her freshly sewn wounds.

 

\--------------------------

 

"Gotchu, you bastard, I gotchu!" Tom exclaimed from the back of the headquarters, his fingers typing on his terminal furiously. The eccentric genius strolled over to the agents, a noticeably uncharred holotape in his hands. "I managed to copy most of the data onto this little guy. You two are gonna want to listen to this," He added, popping the tape into a Pip-pad.

Jack immediately perked up, her interest peaked at the sight of the recovered evidence. First there was nothing but static, but then faint yelling and gunshots could be heard. A voice, cutting out occasionally between words, merged from the jumble of static chaos.

 _"Valkyrie to HQ...we are...attack...capturing everyone...numbers overwhelming..."_ A large explosion interrupted the report, more gunshots and yelling followed. _"I thought… thought I...negotiate...Nuka-World...I failed...forgive m--"_

_Silence._

Deacon put the audio on again....and again....the fourth repetition made Jack grab his hand and pull it away. He was just staring at the screen blankly. or at least that’s what she assumed he was doing.. You never could be sure behind those shades.

"I judged her too soon... Didn't trust her when she used her last defense to leave us a message Damn it..." Deacon breathed tapping the side of his nose as if it would produce the answer eventually. "Nuka World huh..." In the same breath he was heading down to the armoury to stock up. Jack didn't even need to ask what he was doing. "You in Nightingale? Pack for a long ass trip if you are."

Jacklyn nodded, though she couldn't help but feel uneasy about the recovered audio. What if this was a trap? Perhaps it was a lure devised to entrap anyone who found that holotape. Nuka-World raiders were far more organized, hell, even clever compared to the dimwits that infested the Commonwealth ruins. What the hell was she negotiating with them for and why didn't she tell anyone else?

"I'm in," she eventually replied, her head still clouded with suspicion. Jack recalled a time that she actually did business with the Operators before they ran off to fortify that damn park. It had been years since she heard from Mags Black, so who knew if her little gang would even give the smuggler the time of day. Then again, if you waved enough caps in their faces, the Operators were far more easily swayed than the psychotic Disciples and brutish Pack members.

"Any idea if they still let merchants in to do business in the Hub?" Jack inquired, slipping purified water and stimpaks into her travel satchel.

"Last I heard that was the case. We heading there first? I got an old ghoul named Coco that was heading up there a few years back. Owes me a Mr Jangles and three stimpaks." He mentioned as he chucked her a few packs of cigarettes for the road. "So we gonna talk about you kissing me earlier? How hard did that ghoul hit you?" He brought up as if it were nothing. Assuming it was a 'close shave with death' reaction that he couldn't resist teasing her about.

Jack nearly dropped the pack of cigarettes out of shock. His sudden question made her turn bright red, but she turned away pretending to pack in hopes he wouldn't see.

"She did what now?!" Tom chimed in, seemingly jumping into the conversation out of nowhere.

Jack turned and shot Tom a glare so icy he immediately pretended to be busy typing on his terminal.

"Oh yeah Tommy. You better believe it. She'd finished smooching the feral and then starts putting the moves on me." He nudged her playfully which was met with a look of pure hatred from a bright red Jack. Immediately he saw she wasn't joking like he was.

"I don't know. I just did. I'm sorry," she finally muttered to Deacon, not maintaining eye contact out of embarrassment. "It was out of line. I won't do it again."

"Oh come on, Jack. I didn't think anything of it. What guy in his right mind would complain about a kiss from you? What the hell is up with this whole dorky shy shit you got going on when I tease you these days?"

Tom whistled and seemed like he was going to chime in again, but almost instantly he changed his mind. Even that crazy bastard knew not to fuck with Jack. Deacon's playful teasing felt like a slap in the face, though she knew deep down he didn't mean for it to feel that way. A knot formed in her stomach, a mixed combination of guilt and embarrassment.

"If you need me," she replied, her tone back to its usual coldness, "I'll be outside."

She flung her satchel over her shoulder and stormed past the two men, her familiar temper making her blood boil.

 

\--------------------------

 

" _Stupid, stupid, stupid_ ," she muttered to herself as she slipped out of the HQ's back entrance. She couldn't make sense of her behaviour, considering she swallowed her infatuation like she did most of her feelings. Lighting a cigarette, she waited for her partner outside, repressing the urge to get high. Chems were her antidote for venomous feelings, but she didn't want to do something more stupid than randomly kissing her partner.

Deacon poked his head out of the church doors sheepishly. Scanning the decrepit building until his eyes found the moody girl hunched up against the wall puffing on the cigarette as if it were oxygen. Deacon kept crouched and snuck up behind her, bursting out from behind a mailbox with a loud concoction of noises in an attempt to scare her. Jack simply met him with narrowed eyes and a particularly long drag that told him she wasn't in the mood.

"Hey, come on Jack...I didn't know Tom was listening...I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"Yeah, sure--and I'm Queen of the Mirelurks," she retorted, not even glancing in his direction.  She sighed heavily, knowing full well there was no point holding a grudge against him. Still, she couldn't help but be annoyed that her pride was dented. "I get it," she continued, taking one last puff of her cigarette before flicking the butt onto the cracked pavement. "I'm just another punchline. Can we start moving?"

"Woah woah woah. We ain't going anywhere with you pissy at me. I don't want you hesitating if i get snagged by the real Queen of the Mirelurks. Met her once. Over 25 ft tall." He joked and tried to put his arm around her waist but she shrugged him off "You're really mad at me?"

She shifted uncomfortably, crossing her arms with a shrug as she fought the urge to smile at his Mirelurk comment.

"I'm pissed, but not pissed enough to feed you to a sea monster," Jack replied, finally cooled off enough to look at him. "Day's still young though."

Deacon staggered backwards clutching his chest in a mock reaction of being shot in the heart. Even falling to the floor and making a detailed deathbed confession about leaving his family Farm in South Carolina to start a new life as the best secret agent there ever was. The twin daughters Poppy and Polly were a nice touch, she had to admit.

How the hell did he come up with this crap? Jackal wished she had what ever chems he was hiding.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Withdrawal can be one hell of a bitch, but its a bit easier with a friend to get you through it.

The pair decided to hit the road shortly after. The slight air of awkwardness apparent, but nothing too bad. Casually they talked about some possible tactics to slip into the depths of Nuka World without having three gangs of angry Raiders out for their blood.

"Didn't you say you knew the head of the Operators? This good or bad for us?" Deacon inquired as he adjusted his glasses.

"As far as I'm concerned, we're still on good terms. I knew the Black siblings back in the day. They had just been kicked out of Diamond City, and needed contacts in the chem trade," Jack replied, kicking a piece of gravel along the road. "I'd just arrived in the Commonwealth. It was a profitable relationship, but once they formed their little gang they didn't need me anymore." She stated the last sentence bitterly, obviously still slightly ticked that she got ghosted by her old friends. He didn’t understand what else she could have expected from raiders.

"We'll go in under the smuggler guise then. Its the cleanest route with the least questions if that's how they know you. I'll play your partner and we'll get nice and comfortable to gain some trust and intel." He suggested gauging her reaction. Cold. It made him uneasy about going into the belly of the beast if she had mixed feelings. "Hey Jack. You know I’m not going anywhere right. You ain't getting rid of me right?"

She cocked a brow at his last statement; her expression confused by what on earth he meant by that. "What? Worried my old compadres will steal me away when we reach Nuka-World?" She teased. "You know raiders aren't my type of company anymore. Besides, with you I don't have to sleep with one eye open."

"Maybe half an eye open? In case i give in to my were-brahmin tendencies." He joked but on sight of her chalked face his smile vanished. "What's wrong Jack?"

The smuggler had stopped for a moment, a queasy feeling washing over her. She had felt clammy for the last few miles, but now it felt like her body was about to go through full-on withdrawal.

"Hey, can we stop a spell?" she asked quietly, fighting the urge to vomit.

"Yeah of course...come on there's an old apartment block over there."

\--------------------------

They cleared out the odd radroach or bloodbug occupying the place but otherwise it was relatively untouched. Well, as untouched as a building could be after being blasted by Nuclear fallout. Jack's pale skin was now glistening, trembling slightly as the itching in her veins took over all rationality. After wiping the slime of bloatfly guts off her face, she backed up against the wall and slowly slid down to the floor.

"Must have been something I ate," she commented quietly with a bitter smile. Her dark hair was matted and drenched in sweat; small strands clinging to her face and neck. Involuntary spasms would radiate through her limbs, and her one good pupil was large enough to turn her brown eye black. Reaching into her pack, she fumbled through its contents until she found a small metal case. She opened it, revealing at least a dozen of hypodermic needles.

She knew how much Deacon detested her chem-use, but if she didn't stop the withdrawal symptoms she could end up getting the both of them killed. She tied a bit of elastic around her bicep, tightening the band with her teeth, then felt the inner crook of her arm for a vein. As the smuggler did countless times before, she injected the Med-X, adding yet another track mark to the collection.

"Have I told you how much I hate that? We're safe here y'know. You don't have to use it...You could fight it." He said with his back purposefully turned away from her.

The very sight of her poisoning herself made him sick to the pit of his stomach and she knew that. But she also knew that Deacon wasn’t stupid enough to believe that the scolding did anything. All that mattered right now was what her body was telling her.

_Screaming at her._

"I'd look after you if it came down to it." That part he said a little quieter.

Jack swallowed her shame, forcing a stone-faced expression to mask it pathetically. He was right and she knew it. She was quiet for a moment as she untied the elastic and packed up her 'medicine'. Slowly, she ran shaking fingers through her damp hair, brushing back the strands from her face while simultaneously trying to force the tangles..

"Remember when I was about to ask you something back at the church?" She asked, breaking the heavy silence. "You know, before the ghouls interrupted me?"

_Why was this so difficult?_

"I was gonna ask you about that...come on, hit me." He finally glanced in her direction when at the clank of glass vials being packed away.

She sighed, leaning her head back against the wall with her eye closed. "I was going to ask for your help," she replied quietly. "Something shitty happened the other night. It wouldn't have happened if I was sober." Jack bit her lip, glancing at Deacon, unsure if she should continue. The opiates that flowed through her veins somewhat dulled the embarrassment enough for her to keep going.

"I've been using since I was twelve," she added quietly, "I obviously can't quit on my own. The withdrawal makes me feel like I'm dying."

Deacon pulled out a cigarette and two bottles of beer from his pack. Handing Jack one of each before responding. "What happened the other night? Is that why you turned up looking strung out to holy hell? You've been off since then. Quiet." He rested his head in his hand as he studied her carefully.

"Yeah, you could say that," she replied with a tired half-smile. She popped off the cap of the beer bottle with her teeth, then took a swig. Though she was used to hiding it, Jack was now soaring so high none of this felt real. Any sort of awful feelings both mentally and physically washed away as she floated ever higher.

"If I tell you what happened, shit would get weird," she replied with a half laugh; cheeks flushing slightly at the memory. "What I'm trying to say is, I need someone to...I don't know. Help me get weaned off of this shit. Last time I tried quitting cold turkey, my body went into shock."

"There's that damn look again. You gotta tell me what happened. Weird is my middle name." He pressed studying her "Of course I'm gonna look after you Jack. Us Menacing Butterflies gotta stick together." He held his hand out for their symbolic high five at the name of their gang.

Jack gave him an amused, but critical look as she weakly reciprocated. It would just be rude to leave him hanging.

"Well," she began, clearing her throat awkwardly, "Back in Goodneighbor I went to the Rexford to get high...very high." She popped the cigarette in her mouth, lighting up the tip before continuing. "That guy at the bar, Wolfgang, we used to work together. I'd peddle his experimental chems, but then he just disappeared. I thought he ran off with my caps or got killed." Taking a long drag, she mentally debated whether or not she should tell the whole story. Deacon was about as good as a lie-detector as he was a liar. There really was little point to holding back.

"Anyway, he came to my room when I was high on those pills he gave me and..." Her face was so hot she could have fried a mirelurk egg on it. With a deep breath, she took another swig of her beer before continuing. "I thought he was you, so I let him in."

Deacon stared at her face growing ever more crimson and she saw his auburn eyebrow raise from behind his glasses. "Do we need to go visit this 'Wolfgang' and remind him of courtesy when visiting a woman in her chambers?" he asked coolly. Evidently still trying to decipher what she was telling him exactly. "Did he hurt my Jack?"

"Hurt me?" she repeated with a smirk. As if he could and they both knew that. "Uh, no. I hurt him when I realised who was on top of me." She couldn't help but laugh out of awkwardness before she chugged the rest of her beer. "Am I going to have to spell this out to you?" she added, throwing the empty bottle against the far wall--making the glass shatter noisily.

Deacon didn’t flinch, he never flinched when she smashed shit out of the blue. Instead he took a long drag of his cigarette, not once lowering his eyebrow or turning his head away...she could practically see the puzzle pieces being put together in his head. Deacon was smart and she was hardly being discreet "Are you- ....hm....Are you saying you slept with this guy, thinking he was...hm..." Deacon put his fingers to his temple and took another long drag, thankful for his glasses as always "Is this payback for Tom?"

"I was so high I thought he was you, yeah," she clarified, somehow not so embarrassed now that it was all out in the open. Anticipation was always the worst part of any confession. "Wouldn't have let him in my room otherwise." She shrugged, flicking the ashes of her cigarette.

"So you thought you were sleeping ..with uh....with me?" He pressed cautiously. Though he was trying his hardest to remain aloof, his cheeks had started to visibly flush.

Jack nodded, taking a long drag of her cigarette. Jack couldn't help but enjoy watching her companion blush for once. "You asked," she replied quietly, studying his face. He was difficult to read, so she took his expression as distaste which created a knot in her stomach. "Fuck, I shouldn't have told you." She rose abruptly, looking away from Deacon as she made her way past him towards the door. "We should keep moving," she stated, her voice laced with melancholy.

Deacon followed suit and gripped her arm, stopping her in her tracks. "Why you always gotta do that? You really hate yourself so much you don't even give me a chance to react?" He sighed and let her arm fall limply to her side as she avoided his gaze. Jack didn’t answer. "You can't go anywhere the way you are right now. Go sit down and make yourself comfortable."

\--------------------------

Deacon paced the length of decrepit shelter for a while. Collecting his thoughts as Jack sat, faced away from him, in a worn leather sofa across the room.

_This was, after all, the first time he’d allowed these particular thoughts through to the realm of possibility._

He was only human and he wasn't blind, Jack was always attractive in the most unique kind of way. The kind of way that persisted no matter how much she tried to destroy it. No matter how much black she tarred over her eye and lips. No matter how many burns, scars, tattoos or track marks covered her body/ No matter how much she fought the world tooth and nail like it was all out to get her. Nothing could take away how breathtakingly radiant she was. But they were partners. You didn't mix business with pleasure for good reason. That shit got complicated fast and he was hardly the commitment type. It was just stupid to entertain it. But here Jack was, impossible to ignore as always.

After a few moments he stopped the pacing, taking a deep breath before he began.

"So that's why you've been weird? Because...well because why Jack? What do you want from me?" That was the one thing he didn’t understand.

Jack sighed, turning back around with her eye glued to the floor. "Sorry," she muttered, barely above a whisper. "I don't want anything from you. You asked, so I answered." She was grinding her teeth with frustration at this point. The mix of withdrawal and the reality of the situation washed over her. "I've put you in a weird position, we can just drop it," she added, stealing a glance at Deacon.

"If you didn't want anything to come of this, you never would have mentioned it." He deduced simply. Deacon came and sat next to her on the sofa, spreading himself out with one arm draped around the back of it, just behind her head, while he fumbled in his pocket for another cigarette "You don't want to get involved with someone like me." He struck the flame of the match to ignite his cigarette and remained deep in thought while he smoked. Jack followed suit

It felt like hours they were sat there. The thick blanket of awkward tension had settled and showed no signs of lifting. Jack was biting her nails now, on her third cigarette with Deacon on his fifth.

 _The deafening silence was driving him crazy_.

Jack too mortified to speak and him not knowing what the hell to say to make it better. As Deacon played with his fingers absentmindedly, he took a deep breath to try and defuse the situation the only way he knew how.

"I gotta ask. How did we even start?" The words came out as if it were the most casual thing in the world

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head at his comment. "You're trying to make sense of a junkie's mind? Good luck," Jack jested, brushing it off. "I didn't even know I had a thing for you before that night," she added, turning her head to face him, "But apparently I do."

"A thing for me huh? You have a habit for wanting what's bad for you don't you?" Deacon laughed, deflecting with humor as he processed what she was saying. “Come on Jack. "What does a beautiful young girl want with an old con artist like me?" Still, the moment she said it he felt that pull, a slew of unsolicited images flashed through his head.

"You're far from bad for me," She whispered with a smirk, leaning her head back on the couch with a raised brow. "Considering you can't even watch me shoot up, I'd even go as far as to say you actually care about what happens to me."  The smuggler scooted her wide hips closer to him until there was barely an inch room between the two. "As for what I want, well, I suppose that depends on what you're thinking right now."

_A gamble on her behalf. One he would have respected if he wasn’t the prey._

"You know I care Jack....You're my partner."

 _His Partner._ That fact was bothering him a lot less as the space between them shrank, their bodies telling the truth where words attempted to protest. His breathing was getting deeper as an entirely different tension consumed them now; suffocating them.

"Any closer and you'll be on my lap...I think you have a pretty good idea of what I'm thinking right now, Nightingale. If you don't then we give you too much credit as an agent."

Flirting now too? Why couldn't he stop himself?

Instinct had always been his best friend but he didn’t know if it was what was best right now. Before he knew it, he was resting his hand on her thigh as a form of comfort. It started as a gesture of comfort at least. Within seconds his fingers dug in ever so slightly. A simple action but one that held too many connotations and now it was done. However subconsciously it may have been, he couldn't take it back.

It was such a gentle signal that she could have mistaken it for the chems but he knew that she hadn’t. Jack raised a thin brow at his touch, but she didn't pull away. Instead she placed her hand on his, gently leading his hand to trail further up. As he came dangerously close to her core and didn’t pull away, Jack took it as an invitation and shifted her position so that she was, in fact, sat on his lap. Facing him with a mischievous little smile. She bit her lip slightly, her thighs tense around his legs.

"Any issues thus far?" She asked, wrapping her arms behind his neck and staring at him intently.

_Many... but not one of them seemed really relevant as he breathed her in._

"None where I'm sat...hmm maybe we could do with a little mood lighting...bit of Bobby Darin on the radio.." He teased, hands running the length of her back and slipping under her tattered vest.

There was no stopping it now. Both of them wanted it and like a tidal wave it was unstoppable. All he could do was be swept along with it.

_The last shred of reservation left as he tasted her._

 

\--------------------------

 

His touch sent a shiver of desire throughout her body so strong that she visibly convulsed. The med-x made it surreal, was this really happening, or was this just another chemmed up delusion? The thought made her retract a little, but not much. "Any other requests, your highness?" she whispered, leaning in closer as her eyes traced his lips.

Deacon teeth latched onto her lower lip, sucking gently for a few moments before letting go and dancing his tongue across it. "If you're gonna sit there, move those hips, Jack...your highness is getting bored over here" he smirked, glasses falling to the end of his nose.

_His eyes…_

Jack had only caught glimpses of them behind those dark shades, but now that he was so close she could finally see them. They were a rich blue, like the shade of deep water. She lunged forward, locking her lips with his, her hands pulling his face close while her hips rocked back and forth. It was as  if she’d slipped into a frenzy, grinding on his lap as their tongues met. Lost in the thick of passion where her mind would both ignited and closed off entirely. The need to release being the primary and only concern.

The urgency only intensified as he removed her vest and exposed her inked chest. His fingertips grazed the burn along her right side. Even though the wound was ten years old now, it still made her gasp. It wasn’t necessarily unpleasant but it wasn’t his destination. His hands travelled up her body and into her hair, gripping on tightly as the growing bulge in his pants became apparent underneath her movements.

For the second time today, the quick-witted agent was quiet. It didn’t surprise her. This wasn't something he’d planned or that he was prepared for and she knew that not being in the loop wasn’t how Deacon liked to operate. In an attempt to take back control, he adjusted himself and slipped a hand inside his pants to release his length from its shrinking confines. Jack was quick to respond, the second it was visible she reached down and began gently stroking her way from the base to the tip. Slowly and precise. With one final kiss, she pulled away from his lips to nip at his neck with such fervour that lovemarks were inevitable. Moving steadily upwards, she stopped when she reached his ear.

"Nothing to say for once?" she whispered, almost mocking him. It was unusual to see him so lost for words, focused only in action with no pretty words to confuse you. This may have been as real as she'd ever seen her partner.

"Just that you're beautiful, Jack." He murmured softly with that cheeky grin she always loved.      

Teeth latched around her erect nipple while he firmly cupped her breast. That perfectly skilled tongue licking circles around it as he sucked with too much skill. She moaned softly, smiling smugly to herself at his compliment even if it did catch her a little off guard. Jack had always wondered if that silver tongue worked as well in bed as it did in the field. She pulled away, laying with back to the couch as she fumbled with her belt.

"Help me won't you?" she asked, trying to tug off her tight dark jeans.

Deacon climbed off the sofa and knelt down in front of her so he could roll her jeans down to her ankles. It was frustrating her that she couldn't see what his eyes were doing right now. You could tell everything in the eyes.

_Was he admiring her? Judging her?_

Everything was hidden behind the barrier. Keeping them apart.

Her concentration refocused back to the moment at hand, nimble fingers entwined themselves in the fabric of her underwear and dragged them down too. Jack felt her cheeks flush further when she noticed his grin spread wider as he got there, her body betraying how aroused she was.

"Hey what are you--OH!" she exclaimed, flinging her head back as she felt his tongue playfully teasing at her clit. Her hips buckled beneath him as half of her tried to recoil while the other half edged closer like a magnet. Razor sharp nails digging into the couch cushions so roughly that the old fabric ripped in her grasp. She bit her lower lip to keep herself quiet; a fruitless attempt to hide how badly she’d caught fire..

Those skilled fingers found their way to her entrance while his silver tongue continued to proved just how effective it could be. Each crook and stroke causing more of her nectar to flow and give him the drink he desired. Two to start; bold but not too ambitious, letting her know that he knew what he was doing without being too assuming.

This was no hallucination this time. The smell, the touch, the emotion. All of it was Deacon...

_Her Deacon._

Strangled gasps of shock and ecstasy, poured from her as if she couldn’t quite get the oxygen quick enough.

How did he know she liked _that?_

No one knew she liked that…

Did he try pulling this risky shit with all girls or was it just because he knew her?

No...This was certainly no chem-induced delusion; not even Med-X could feel this good. Her pale inked skin was glistening with sweat now as she fought the impeding urge to climax, growing stronger with each lap of his tongue. No longer capable of suppressing herself, the abandoned apartment echoed with Jack's moans and curses.

"I can't...can't last much longer!" she exclaimed, her good eye shut tight as she gritted her teeth. She gripped her breasts and tweaked at the sensitive nub, back arched in pleasure as she pushed herself into him for more. "For god's sake, fuck me!" she nearly begged, her voice cracking slightly as her body trembled.

Deacon lifted his head and pushed his rather smudged shades up his nose before wiping his lips.

"A little louder if you don’t mind, Jack. I don't think the super mutants three blocks away quite heard you and we all know how they hate being left out." He teased as he got up to meet her demands. It took a few moments to process the fact that she was actually about to receive him.

 _Him_. The real Deacon.

In a blur of desperate pulls and kisses he slipped himself inside, breaking past her walls and lifting her by her legs so he could carry her over to the abandoned dresser. All the while bouncing her on his cock with little effort, as if she weighed nothing. His strength surprised her, she knew he wasn’t strong but she wasn’t exactly small and expected some at least. She wrapped her muscular, long legs around him in response, moaning loudly as she felt him plunge deeper to the hilt.

The cold wood that pressed against her back sent goosebumps down her spine. Making her gasp with shaky breaths with every thrust, the sounds of pleasure and creaking wood filling the air. She dug her nails into his shirt, scratching up and down his back in rhythm with her bouncing on his cock. Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip to stifle her borderline screams, Jacklyn studied his features with one obvious problem-- those dark smudged glasses that hid those evasive eyes of his.

"I got something on my face?" He asked with a smirk, accompanied by a deep grunt of satisfaction.

_Had he always had such large hands?_

He was able to pin both her inked wrists to the wall above her head as his cock pistoned in and out of her. Each merciless thrust a silent command for her to cum for him now. Jack groaned frustrated in response, tossing her head back against the wall, so overwhelmed; her whole body seemed to unravel as he ravaged her.

"Deacon... I-I'm close," she warned between gasps. As the growing pressure of an orgasm began to shake through her, she cried out--her muscles tensing tightly around his length.

"Stop telling me and do it then, Jack..." he bit her lip again to follow the tease. In a bid to aid her, his rough hands pawed at her chest for the extra stimulation, rolling a calloused thumb over her nipple as his pace of his cock increased that little bit more.

"Deacon..." she moaned pathetically, strained breaths making her sound like it was almost painful as the intense pleasure was brought to its peak. The Nightingale pulled her partner's face close, kissing him passionately as the orgasm shook through her body in an instant--nearly knocking off his glasses with her desperation. Deacon smiled, kissing the tip of her nose as he slowed down to let her ride out the aftershocks. The infamous glasses were askew on his face, revealing one of his blue eyes in its entirety. He was so caught up in her that he didn't even notice. Even now she couldn't say how old the bastard was…

He didn’t seem to initiate a kiss she noted. He didn't resist it but it started by him. Her legs slid down his as his cock released with a pop.

"Bend over that table." Even as he commanded her, he grabbed her hand and pulled her, practically bending her himself as he spread her legs apart and entered her again. A forcefulness she wasn't used to or expecting with him but one that she wasn't exactly complaining about. In all honesty, she didn’t know what she was expecting if anything with how illusive he was.

A surprised yelp escaped her lips as his hand forced her over the table, grasping the edges of the wooden surface as she turned her face to the side. Loose strands of her pixie cut black hair slapped against her face with every merciless push. Deacon leaned in and brushed them out of her face, scraping them back into the mass so he could get a good grip. With surprising delicacy, he lifted her head up by her hair, making Jack gasp in appreciation. She always did like it rough. Deacon let out a small laugh in response.

_A fucking snicker? Was he actually laughing right now?_

The smuggler tried to glance over her shoulder but his grip tightened and forced her to look straight ahead. His attitude had changed since she came and he'd become quiet too. Not making jokes and his whole demeanor had shifted to something more serious. Darker. What she couldn't know was that his glasses had been removed some time ago, so he didn't have to concern himself with them falling off as he fucked her.

Jack arched her back, raising her peach-shaped ass higher as her partner tugged her hair and penetrated deeply inside her. The stinging sensation radiating from her roots was painfully pleasurable, so much that she didn't notice when her eyepatch slipped off to reveal her damaged milk white eye that always remained hidden.

Deacon released his grip on the agent's sweat-dampened hair, then pulled out only for as moment to flip her over onto the table.

For a moment they simply stared at each other. As if seeing the other for the first time in their entirety. Their eyes locked and it was the first time in their half a decade of running together that each pair had gotten to look at the othe.

As if realising this, Deacon was the one to suck in the air, blue gaze darting everywhere and anywhere except the woman in front of him. Jack felt it too. She knew him well enough to know he felt truly naked right now for the first time all night. Exposed and she did too. Her eye was her biggest insecurity and his were too, even if it wasn’t for the same reasons.

Refusing to let him get lost in his head, Jack once more took the gamble. As she cupped his face and forced him to look at her, she grinned and used her strong stencilled legs to pull him closer, grinding her pubic bone against his crotch almost impatiently.

An effective distraction and Deacon let out a tortured groan as his animalistic urges took over his fears.

Deacon used his index and middle finger spread her lips slowly , preparing for when he pushed back inside. She knew him well enough that by the quizzical curl in his lip that he was experimenting. He'd figured out the basis of what she liked and now he was teasing to test her fragile boundaries. Without warning he took the plunge quite literally,  pinning her to the table by her throat and forcing himself inside her until he bottomed out. The first few thrusts were for readjustment only. Without warning he quickened the pace; fucking her furiously with a rhythmic roll of his hips that could only be attained by concentration and experience.

Jack grinned, top teeth sinking into her bottom lip as he wrapped his fingers around her throat. The surprise was just what she needed and if she wasn't mistaken...no there was no mistaking it. His cock was twitching and the fit was so tight she could feel it clearly. He was about to tip over the edge.

Using one hand to tightly grasp her breast, the Nightingale reached down to rub her clit as she pleasurably watched her partner reach his limit. Jack tightened the muscles of her vulva around Deacon's throbbing cock as she felt another impending orgasm sneaking up on her. A shit-eating grin appeared stretching from ear to ear on Deacon's smug face. He knew exactly what was happening again and his reaction. As the warm nectar gushed over his length, his pace became more erratic.. The loss of control personified in every punishing, desperate thrust. Jack's nails cut the flesh of his forearms as his grip on her neck tightened, cutting her breathing momentarily for the last precious rock of his hips.

In moments it was over and the sudden influx of oxygen caused her to cough violently. Deacon had removed himself just at the point of eruption and poured it all over the smugglers shaking torso.

Both just stayed there for a moment gasping, frozen in time as passion's cloud lifted.

\--------------------------

After a few soft coughs, a lightheaded Jacklyn sat up carefully--her body still trembling with pleasurable aftershocks. It took her a moment to return to reality; the first noticeable thing being her exposed left eye. The light a knife digging into her damaged oculus--the pain must had been drowned out in the pleasure, but she could certainly feel it now. The Nightingale placed a shaky hand over her socket, trying to swallow the pain before it ruined the moment.

"That was..." She began with a sly smile, "Better than I could have imagined."

It was a feeble facade at best. Deacon had been around her enough and could see instantly she was in pain. Grabbing his shirt, he wiped up the remnants of his release and scanned around for her patch..finding it discarded a little away from them.

"Here Jack...you alright?" He asked gently as he brushed any debris off and handed it to her.

"Better than alright," she replied, grinning smugly as she slipped the patch over her eye. She stood up, and made her way across the room where her clothing had been strewn about. As the agent was tugging her panties up over her thighs, she found Deacon's rather smudged glasses.

"Here," Jack said, approaching him with the sunglasses in hand after she wiped off the lenses. She couldn't help but steal one last look of those royal blue eyes before they were concealed once more.

"Wouldn't be getting far without those. Y'know I only wear them for everyone's own good. If you stare into my eyes too long you'll turn to stone. Medusa curse. I'm her last descendant. You're lucky to be alive. That could have got awkward real quick." Deacon teased as he tidied himself up. Deflecting with a good lie and humour was what he did best. "Hey, C'mere". The agent took her by the hand and cupped her face for a gentle kiss.

Her cheeks flushed. She hadn't expected the kiss, but she leaned in to meet his lips with hers. A warm feeling rippled through her; it was an unfamiliar sensation, something Jack hadn't felt in a long while. Using a pale hand, she turned her partner's face to the side gently to observe the dark lovemarks staining his neck.

"That's a good look on you," Jack teased with a smirk, softly kissing the darkest of the bruises.

"You like the taste of me apparently. sure you ain't turning into that deathclaw after all?" he smiled but he was different once more. She couldn't tell if he was feeling off or if he was just awkward.

_Deacon...Awkward…_

Now there were two words that didn't sit right next to each other yet couldn't be more compatible.  

"Glad you got that out of your system?"

"Why? Was that a one time thing?" Jack replied coolly, though deep down she began to worry. Was this a mistake? Would their friendship suffer after crossing such a line? She began tugging her jeans up over her hips, stopping briefly to yawn before buckling the leather threaded through her belt loops.

"I haven't thought that far ahead..." An obvious lie and she knew it. If there was anything she'd learned it was that Deacon always thought ten steps ahead before he opened his mouth. He was playing cool right now, shutting off and there was no way to see what he was thinking. It was these skills that made him a good agent but almost impossible to read. The damn glasses were back on again too. Blocking him off from her completely.

"We got work to do Jack. Lets just leave this as what it was right now. Alright?"

She shrugged in response, pulling her tank top over her head before rummaging through her pockets for a pack of cigarettes.

"We're only a day's journey from Nuka-World," She pointed out, changing the subject with a stone-faced mask to hide her disappointment. "Want to just squat here for the night?"

"Yeah sounds good." The moment she took her first drag, Deacon had swiped it and was smoking happily, as if nothing was wrong. The walls back up. The agent stretched and rummaged in his pack for his playing cards "Snap?"

She couldn't help but eye Deacon up as he sat there; exposed chest, cigarette dangling from his lips as he shuffled cards. She savoured the handsome sight despite the burning rage she felt at his dismissal of her. But his words rang clear and he was right. If he could play poker so could she. Jack simply smiled, nodding in response to his question.

"Why not?" Jack replied, sitting beside him. "If you feel like losing." The agent leaned down to pick up her leather vest, searching the inner pockets for her metal flask. She unscrewed the cap and took a swig, then handed it out to Deacon before stealing back her cigarette with a grin.

_Everything was normal. Completely normal._

 

\--------------------------

 

There was no way she could tell behind his glasses that he hadn't taken his eyes off her since he had his glasses back. The card shuffling was a good distraction but didn't require his vision.

"Oh she talks the big talk now. Forgetting the sore loser fiasco of '91 are you? Tom was scared to look your direction for a month." He teased taking the flask and a long swig of the moonshine.

The agent scoffed, rolling her eye at the memory. "That son of a bitch cheated and you know it," she retorted, taking another sip of booze before screwing on the flask's cap.

And so, they played cards, chain smoking cigarettes while passing the flask back and forth until late into the night. Jack ended up dozing off at some point, her head resting on Deacon's lap as she curled up into a ball. Like a cat snoozing on a couch.

He stroked her hair and danced his fingers along the length of her spine as she slumbered. She really was beautiful...The agent thought to himself over another cigarette. The sun was rising and cracking through the windows, engulfing everything in a peach hue. It wasn't long after that that he drifted in an attempt to scavenge even a couple of hours sleep before the travelling. Every doubting bone in his body couldn't help but question what they'd done.


	4. Magpie and Jackal.

Jack's eye flickered open as the morning sun streamed through the broken blinds. Realising she was laying on her sleeping partner, she carefully sat up with a yawn and stretched her cramped back, taking a moment to observe Deacon as he dozed. 

He looked different when he slept, younger even, with that relaxed expression. She took a moment to wonder just how old he really was. He had always called her kid, but Jack couldn't help but wonder if he was actually that much older than her.

She used an index finger to gently push up his sunglasses which had slid down to the tip of his nose. 

_ Jack then kissed his cheek. _

The moment her lips touched his skin, Deacon's reflexes shot into action. he gripped Jack’s wrist tight as she rose, quicker she ever could have expected, even for him.

"Careful what sleeping dogs you disturb, kid.." He said with a raised eyebrow. 

Caught off guard, Jack took a sharp breath as he grabbed her. For a moment there she thought he was going to break her wrist from grasping it so tight. She mentally admitted to herself that she should have known better than to touch a sleeping agent.

Deacon released her and slipped his hand around her neck to pull her in for a real kiss. Sharp canines sank down on her bottom lip for just a moment. A puncture wound at best.

"If you're gonna kiss someone do it properly."

"I'll remember that next time," she muttered, grinning into the embrace before taking his face in her hands gently and returning the kiss. "Better?"

"Much..." Deacon mirrored her grin instinctively. He let her go and admired her long slender form. Like an old world gazelle, graceful even if unintentional. It was impossible not to be drawn in by her.

With morning also came the rush of reality that's easily forgotten in semi consciousness. As they separated it was like a switch had been flipped. In a heartbeat, he shut off again. It washed over his face like pulling on a mask. Jack saw it and felt it too, so she retracted her overly comfortable demeanor to study him again. She just needed something, any sign to hint how he really felt. Everything was questionable with him, even the things that should be obvious. Deacon instead stayed hidden, rising off the seat and giving her the hint to do so as well.

"Don't just stand there with that confused Super Mutant look on your face. Get moving or I'm at risk of getting cooties off you. We got a train to catch." He jested with that painted on smile that he wore so frequently.

\--------------------------

It only took ten or so minutes before the Nuka-Express came squeaking into the station when they arrived. There were no Raiders guarding the place, which was rare and for once both of them weren’t grateful for this fact. So awkward even as they waited for the very few passengers to disembark before boarding cautiously.

"You said you've been to Nuka-World before?" Jack asked as she watched the landscape zoom by. The pre-War shuttle was a surprisingly smooth ride, although the high speed was somewhat nauseating for those who didn’t travel by vehicle regularly.

Deacon observed the scenery absentmindedly, purposefully not turning his gaze on her. 

“Yeah a few times. Had a contact here years back. Not one you'd expect these days. But we used to run together back before I joined the Railroad and before she got her gang." He paused "I was different back then..." he pulled out his cigarette and took a deep drag "Nisha...we uh...had a colourful relationship."

She glanced at him sideways, debating whether or not she should press the subject. Jack was willing to bet a good deal of caps that he was referring to his days spent with the University Point Deathclaw gang--not exactly a light topic of discussion. 

Of course she had heard of Nisha, but nothing good or even remotely decent. The psychopathic leader of the bloodthirsty Disciples had become a legend of sorts in the Commonwealth. Some say she flayed a man alive with such surgical precision that her victim lived to see his own skinless body in the mirror.

Not exactly the type of person the agent imagined Deacon having a history with.

"Would she even recognize you?" Jack inquired, "And would it be bad if she did?"

Deacon laughed "There’s a lot of reasons I disguise myself, kid. Lets just leave it at that." Another deep drag but he could see Jack’s eyes on him. Pressing him for more. "No matter how many times I change my face...She'd know my scent. Nose like a bloodhound, that one." He sighed and thought for a moment, tapping his nose in contemplation "We’re going in undercover right? What was your plan?"

"We should head straight to the Operators," Jack replied halfheartedly, "I'll offer them a deal, but make it tipped too much in our favour to force at least a few days of negotiation." 

She jumped nervously as the shuttle hit a rather harsh bump. Grasping a handrail, she cursed under her breath--something about wanting to shove a bottle of Nuka-Cola down the automated tour-guide's throat. 

"That will give us a chance to gather intel. We need to figure out what became of Valkyrie." Though she was a smuggler, junkie, and thief, Jack couldn't bare the thought of a fellow agent being kept captive by a load of marauders.

Deacon agreed but didn't follow her as she got off the tram. Instead he focused on the window and started rummaging in his bag. His 'bag of tricks' as he called it.

The black pompadour - her favourite. Then he pulled out his makeup and some dirt off the ground to make some convincing face paint

"I gotta look the part right? Imagine the reaction I’d get if I walked wearing that damn sweater vest and slacks that Des gives to the recruits" He laughed and shook his head.

Jack turned to watch her partner slip into his Wastelander camo. She leaned against a brick pillar, lighting up a cigarette as she avoided eye contact with other train passengers exiting the shuttle.

A few Pack members howled at the sight of her, one even banging his chest with a fist like an animal trying to win over a mate. However, their poor attempts to catch her attention were met with an eye roll and a vibrant display of her middle finger. The two men cackled with amusement, but decided trying the patience of the armed woman and her partner wasn't worth the effort.

"Ugh," Jack grumbled, wrinkling her nose, "I'd rather date a Yao-Guai. Would probably smell better."

\--------------------------

Deacon watched after the two for several seconds, taking in his surroundings from behind his shades. There were people staring at them in all directions and he had to play the game. If he didn't then they'd stand out or people would think they could mess with them. 

Not the impression you want to send out in a hostile environment. 

Deacon stubbed out his cigarette on the lamppost and with his shotgun in hand, walked quickly after the two men. Without a word, and an audible sigh, he placed two clean shots in the back of their heads. Not even giving them so much as a chance to turn around. He spat on the bodies and made threatening gestures and comments to anyone who was staring.

When he finally got back to Jack, she blinked in clear disbelief at the sight she’d just witnessed, taking a moment to process what the hell just happened. When Deacon approached her, cheek and chest splashed with flesh blood, her lips spread into an impish grin. He almost fell over when she threw herself at him to plant a kiss on his lips.

"It just looks bad if we don't let people know they can't fuck with us here." He mumbled, hoping the dirt was hiding the heat he was feeling in his cheeks.

"That was hot," she joked, still chuckling as she stepped over the corpses. "Let's go before I get whistled at and you go on a killing spree."

\--------------------------

As they entered the Parlor, Jack's good eye strained to adjust to the darkened room. The heavy-set door slammed behind them, causing a band of Operators in the entranceway to turn towards the disruption.

"Unless you got business here, I suggest you get the hell out." One of the larger raiders stated, his threatening tone laced with impatience.

"I'm here to see Mags," Jack replied coolly, "Tell her Jackal is here."

"Well isn't that a very friendly welcome..." Deacon muttered, reaching into pants to grab his cigarettes.

"If you're Jackal, who the hell is this guy?" The large one snapped as a shorter, rougher one grabbed his wrist.

"John. Call me John D." Deacon smiled and snatched his hand back, proceeding to take out his cigarettes before eyeing the three from behind his shades. He made childish and crude kissing faces to younger female operator standing in the front with the other too. Clearly not impressed, she gave a look of disgust and spat at him.

A twitchy operator came up from behind and began patting Jack down, only to be tossed over her shoulder and slammed onto the floor. She drew her pistol and aimed it at the man's head, ignoring the various clicks that circulated around the room as the Operators drew their weapons.

"Put those away," A calm voice commanded. From the main room, a blonde woman strolled into the entryway. She carried herself with a sort of refined dignity, unlike the raiders that followed her--a trait from growing up in the upper stands that couldn't be taught or faked. "Well, well. Jacklyn King, as I live and breathe," she stated, almost bored by the whole affair and resting her weight on her hip.

"Mags Black," Jack replied, holstering her weapon before releasing the raider pinned under her boot. "We have business to discuss."

The Operator leader raised a brow, an amused smirk tracing her lips. "Of course...anything for an old friend. Follow me then."

Deacon followed the two women holding his gun in its firing stance as a warning to anyone who may wish to try and touch Jack again.  Not that she needed it. This thought made him chuckle to himself. Mags cocked her overly coiffed blonde head back to examine him with a sweet smile "And who is this Jack? Hired a bodyguard these days? You must be losing your touch."

"Not a bodyguard, doll face. Just a partner in crime." Deacon responded quickly in that charming ass way he had about him. Mags actually laughed.

As they entered what could only be described as Mags' "meeting room", they all took a seat around as the leader of the Operator leader put the radio on.

"With the Pack and Disciples lurking around this place, you can never be sure which walls have ears" Her too-beautiful face hadn't let that silky sweet smile falter for an instant.

But the problem with expressive eyes is that they give so much away. That was the trick Deacon had learned all those years ago.

_ "Keep the eyes covered and they'll never see inside your head." _ ...Strange he should think that now…Of her.

"So why are you and your little friend here, Jackal? It’s been a very long time."

Deacon was snapped out of his thoughts and went back to assessing the golden haired bombshell sat behind her desk. Those big blue eyes were giving too much away again. Darting back and forth between the pair; waiting for something to be said. 

There was something she was worried about. But he couldn’t put his finger on what.

Not until it walked in the room.

"We got visitors, Mags?" A confused man’s voice chimed as he walked through the doorway.

Jack looked over her shoulder, her body tensing in a way Deacon hadn’t seen before as she forced her face into stone and watched the man enter the room. 

"Is that...Jackal?" The man asked, not exactly hiding his surprise well.

"Hello, William," Jack replied coldly, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

His sister didn't address him but Deacon knew of the Black siblings. Mags and William. Though you’d never think they were siblings to look at them. 

Mags didn’t seem to notice, or care, for their strange behaviour. She seemed too wrapped up in Deacon. 

“Tell me," She purred, "What brought you two together? Jackal was never known to play nice with others."

Deacon's eyes were focused on William and Jack despite seemingly paying attention to Mags. A skill he had perfected over the years. The tension was so thick it was choking around them, how the hell hadn’t she noticed it? He understood the history plain as day but this was too obvious, it was painful. Jack was shaking and digging her nails in her arm. She wanted to hurt the guy bad.

Which was interesting. He didn't seem like an asshole from the off.  Deacon concluded that that could only mean one thing. A bitter taste formed in the back of his mouth.

He hadn't felt that in decades... _ Jealousy _ . 

The railroad con-artist swallowed it back and chose to ignore it. That was irrational and he must have been confusing the need to protect her. Deacon didn't get feelings anymore. It wasn’t smart for him or the person involved. 

Mentally shaking the thoughts from his head, he smiled at Mags. Turning on the charm for the Black sister.

"You keep her on a leash and she usually behaves." He teased and managed to distract Jack for a second as she glanced his way, breaking the tension before Mags caught wind of it. There must have been a reason she hadn't anticipated any awkwardness between Jack and her brother. Deacon concluded that meant that she didn’t know what was painfully obvious to him. He’d ask Jack about it later.

"We make a good team and we make a lot of caps. I hear you guys like a lot of caps too, gorgeous." He grinned and relaxed into the chair. Mags was taken aback. People were usually too intimidated to be so brazen with her, that much was obvious and he’d read her well.

"That we do. That we do, indeed." She grinned.

\--------------------------

The sound of Deacon's voice snapped the agent back into reality. She cursed herself for allowing a decade old grudge to overcome her, like some teenage girl first experiencing heartbreak. Though she still could feel the heavy gaze of William's eyes boring into her, Jack chose to ignore him--forcing herself to focus on the task at hand.

"Watch yourself," she growled, slipping into character, "Or I'll find myself a new partner. Maybe one that shuts up once in awhile."

The Operator leader chuckled with amusement, her interest obviously peaked by the pair. "Now there's the Jackal I remember," Mags drawled with that signature half-smile. "Here I was worrying you'd gone soft over the years."

The agent cocked a brow, but maintained her icy expression. Mags always did love dancing on the edge when it came to Jack's patience. 

"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head," Jack retorted, returning a smirk, "I've grown far from soft, you'd know that if you hadn't just ghosted me."

"It was nothing personal," Mags replied boredly, "Did I hurt you feelings? Would you have preferred I sent a note?"

Jack grinned, beginning to enjoy the banter with the blonde bombshell. It was just like the good old days. "No hard feelings," she replied coolly. "But I have an offer that might catch your attention."

William had moved to the doorway, his rifle slung over his shoulder as he lit up a cigarette. "Might as well listen, Mags. She's the best smuggler in the Commonwealth," He chimed in with that gravelly voice.

Mags shrugged, obviously not completely bought, but the two agents certainly had her ear. "I suppose if Caleb raises the income tax on chem shipments any higher, we might as well start smuggling them in. Let's talk caps."

"I like this one, Jack. She knows a good thing when she sees it." Deacon smirked, igniting a lighter for Mags as she placed a cigarette in between those plump rose lips of hers. 

\--------------------------

They ironed out the details over the next hour, William and Deacon playing mediator between the two women. William was used to this role but he wasn't used to sharing it with another man.

"I don't see how this arrangement benefits us, Jackal. I knew you were a dirty dog but I thought you were smarter than to try and cheat the Operators. No deal. Now unless--"

Deacon held up his hand to speak, interrupting Mags. at first she looked perplexed but her confused expression settled into a look of intrigue and endearment. her lips curling into that signature smile

"Maybe we came on too arrogant. It was my idea. Jack insisted we not try to overcharge you but I insisted on trying my luck. And then I saw you and well. Can you blame a guy? A girl as beautiful as you should be easy fool, that's what I told myself. Old Johnny underestimated you. How about we negotiate? Also means I have an excuse to enjoy some more of your company" The agent proposed. William went to say something but Mags had already made her intentions clear with her body language.

"Smooth talker, aren’t you? I suppose I could consider it, given our history Jack. Old friends are we not?"

Jack rolled her eye at how easily her partner played the Operator leader. She was honestly thankful for Deacon's company during the negotiations, considering Mags and her could never seem to agree on anything. When the blonde called Jack a dog, the agent's blood pressure spiked at the familiar insult. 

It seemed as though Deacon, or John, was finally getting through to Mags. Those pair of starlet eyes were glued to him; unnaturally thick lashes fluttering flirtatiously. It made Jack nauseous with disgust.

"Sure thing, Magpie" Jack retorted with a bitter smile, knowing how much she hated the old nickname. The blonde bombshell's smirk disappeared in an instant, her eyes narrowing at Jack with annoyance. Before she could reply, Jack stood up abruptly making her chair scrape noisily across the wooden floor. "Excuse me, nature calls," she muttered.

She ignored the questioning stares of her partner and Mags as she made her way down the hallway and out of sight. It wasn't nature calling, more like her raw emotions overwhelming her to the point of withdrawal.

Without much thought, she opened a random door only to find someone's bedroom, not what she was looking for. Jack closed the door, turning around and nearly bumped into a man who had snuck up behind her.

"Fuck!" She hissed, startled by his presence. The agent looked up and realized who was standing before her.

"It's good to see you, Jack," William stated, his dark eyes staring intensely into hers. He reached to touch the jagged scar that cracked down her left eye. "When did that happen?"

Jack pushed him away violently as soon as his fingers grazed her skin. "Don't you touch me," she growled, her heart thudding painfully in her chest.

"Jack, I never wanted to--"

"I don't want to hear it," she practically spat, brushing past him to continue her search for the bathroom.

"Just go in my room," he said quietly, knowing full well she was trying to find a place to shoot up. "We can talk..."

The now trembling agent rubbed her temples as her head began to ache. "Fine, but you're staying the hell away from me," she hissed, entering his room and slamming the door shut behind her.

William stood there for moment, scratching his beard as he debated going after her. He decided against it, heaving a heavy sigh before returning to his sister's side.

\--------------------------

Jack appeared back in the meeting room around 10 minutes later...barely giving herself time to come up, let alone get used to it and put on her poker face. Mags had evidently taken advantage of her brother and Jack leaving her alone with Deacon. The blonde had taken a place next to him on the cracked leather sofa, a slender arm draped around his neck and her leg crossed in such a way that she was practically on his lap. Jack felt the prickly heat seize her chest before it clawed at her throat. A flash of red and an inhaler in her partners mouth... Jet...She'd never seen him take a chem before, hell knew he gave her a hard enough time about it, but here he was, sharing a hit with Mags.

Rage and toxic hatred washed over her like a tidal wave. Mentally she imagined tearing the blonde tramp to shreds--

_ I'll show you a dog. _ Jack thought to herself with gritted teeth.

She turned away from the scene, accidentally making eye contact with William who hadn't taken his gaze off her since she entered the room. He gave her a questioning look, which she returned with an expression contorted in defeat and anger. Without a word, she stormed out of the Parlor, practically knocking aside those who dared stood in her way. Jack wasn't sure where she was going. All she was knew was that she was high, pissed, and itching for a fight.

Deacon stared after his partner for a few moments and then slowly got up, fighting the urge not to run after her but instead playing it cool and making the excuse that he had better go find her before she got herself in trouble.

"You're a good little lapdog John. But another dog can't take care of you. Maybe you need to switch owners. Just a suggestion. Tell Jackal we'll pick up negotiations tomorrow." Mags gave him a sultry wink. Deacon returned the gesture with his charming smile before giving the pair a quick nod goodbye.

_ Now where the fuck had she got to? _


End file.
